


Shenanigans with Shep and Zed

by MsLanna



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Humour, Silly shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsLanna/pseuds/MsLanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all the femShep/Zaeed-besties stories I will likely write. I can't promise plot or that they even belong all into one timeline. Connected stories will be marked.</p><p>No shipping planned. Should I get tempted into writing some silly Shaeed, stories will be marked accodingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Safe Apartment I

The Safe Apartment I

“No.” Shepard was adamant. “We're fixing this now. I don't want anybody to get hurt in case I die and the flat is assessed.”

“You are impossible to kill, Shep,” Zaeed replied, keeping up with her brisk walk down the Tiberius Towers. “Remember the incident with the Collector base?”

“Yes.” She stopped in midstride, hugging herself. “Yes, I do.”

“Sorry.” He put a hand down over her shoulder. “And all we did was make sure your apartment is safe,” he continued after a moment.

“Zaeed,” Shepard started walking again, “we were on your second bottle of Mount Milgrom. I'd chance the wager that nothing we did then was safe even under the broadest definition of the word.”

They reached the apartment and Shepard keyed the door open.

“Is that why you are-” Zaeed was cut short by a shower of splintering glass.

Shepard stood in the lethal whirlwind, blinking as the sharp missiles bounced off her armour. She had the distinct feeling that the mercenary was using her for cover. “You were saying?”

“Dammit, that worked beautifully,” Zaeed rumbled, scrutinising the air where the glass wall had been. He sported a few fresh cuts on his face and exposed arm.

“Actually it didn't,” Shepard objected. “I was supposed to get in safely, remember?”

“But you didn't enter the code first,” he said.

“Code?” Shepard dragged her eyes away from the debris. “What code?”

“We installed a second security layer,” Zaeed explained. “So that the safety measures would trigger in case somebody got your access data.”

“A code for the code.” She slumped. “Right. And you didn't tell me about this when I opened the door because?”

“I thought you'd remember that, Shep.” He grinned. “Also, you are wearing your full set of armour, complete with helmet. Triggering this might have been a test.”

“In case my flat is a death trap.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, get a broom Massani.” Sighing she watched the mercenary amble off in search of the broom muttering and boots crunching on the glass. Her flat was a death trap. At least they had managed to rig the explosives in a way that shattered the glass mostly outwards and left the trees somewhat intact.

 

“ _So,” Zaeed indicated the assortment of transparent items, “last line of defence.”_

“ _Riiiight,” Shepard leant heavily on the low table. “First line you mean. Entrance door.”_

“ _Whatever, Shep, last set-up for today.” He propped himself up on the elbows. “And good work so far. You did indeed learn something.”_

“ _Not from you,” she said._

_Zaeed snorted. “So, plastic fuse adhesive strips, transparent charges, pebble sized and glass fibre wire to hook it up with the door.”_

“ _Okay.” She picked up the adhesive fuse strip. After a while she held up her hands to Zaeed. “Adheres great.”_

“ _Bosh'tet,” Zaeed growled starting to unglue his commander. The success was questionable. But after a bit he had managed to unstick her right and successfully and stick her left to his right instead._

“ _Bosh'tet yourself.” Shepard pulled at the adhesive fuse tape._

_Zaeed returned the favour, launching them into a tug of war._

“ _This is not working,” she decided after a while. They had managed to put the low table between them for better traction._

“ _You're so dead, Shep,” Zaeed said._

“ _Why?”_

“ _Because you are loaded; I can see three charges glued to your arm and one on the shirt, collarbone height.” He chortled about his own joke._

_Shepard used the distracted moment to yank him across the table hard. “Watch it Massani. I am the only one allowed to make horrible puns.”_

“ _Watch what?” He asked back. “It's all too transparent.”_

_She pushed him away with a disgusted snort and little success as their hands were still entangled in the adhesive fuse tape. She shook her hand vigorously as if that was a more promising action now than five minutes ago. “You and your ideas.”_

“ _Blame your space chicken for half of them,” Zaeed replied, shaking his hand wildly as well. “The exploding glass wall was his idea.”_

“ _Because you were too entranced by my hot tub,” she accused him._

“ _It's a great tub,” Zaeed replied. “You should use it more often.”_

“ _You rigged it to cook me alive!”_

“ _A minor setback,” he said. “And can be overridden now. Stop shaking that hand. You are not helping.”_

“ _Oh, but you are?” She yanked her left hand back._

“ _Of course I am.” He flicked a knife from his armour. It clattered over the floor coming to rest against the fire place. “Fuck.” He tried again, catching the blade this time and pointing it as Shepard. “Watch this.”_

_A few cuts later, his right was free of the tape. Shepard looked at the sticky strands hanging from her hand like a ravaged mummy._

“ _Good work?”_

“ _That is just the beginning. Come.” The knife shook a little in his unsteady grip. He dragged her towards the glass wall, putting her hand against it. “There. Almost done.”_

“ _Zaeed.” Shepard tried to pluck her hand off the glass again. “How is that supposed to even work.”_

“ _You can trigger the charges with your biotics.”_

“ _And then what?” She twisted around to face him. “Even if that works, I'd be standing in the middle of an exploding glass wall.”_

“ _You will have to get into armour first,” he agreed._

“ _Zaeed! You taped me to this fucking glass wall. How am I going to get into anything?”_

“ _Good point.” He leant against the glass. “How did you get into this mess?”_

“ _Good heavens, Zaeed, just give me another of your knives.” She held out her free hand._

“ _Do I look like a knife dispenser to you?”_

“ _Indeed. So cough it.” Her fingers curled in a demanding gesture._

_The mercenary, popped another knife from its hiding place. It bounced off the glass, her armour and clattered onto the floor. “Great aim, Massani,” Shepard snorted. “Maybe go for my free hand next time.”_

“ _How many knives do you think I still have?”_

“ _Two.” She thought for a moment “Maybe three, but I don't think you're in any state to get at that one any more.”_

“ _Watch it, Shep.”_

“ _Please no,” she replied quickly. “I'll make do with this one.” Her foot reached out to drag the knife on the ground towards her. “What about you prepare some of the actual charges?”_

_For a moment it seemed as if Zaeed would just stay and watch her struggle with the adhesive fuse. Then he returned to the table with a shrug. When he returned with the first prepped strips, Shepard had managed to free herself without severing a finger._

“ _Good. Let's do this.” She pinned one end of the adhesive against the glass._

“ _This is meant to go on the other side,” Zaeed sighed, tearing it off again._

“ _Right. Other side.” Shepard turned around, found herself facing thin air and went to look for the other side of the glass wall. Zaeed followed her around, the charges dangling from his hands on the adhesive tape._

“ _That is your window,” he told her helpfully. “And this is the water wall. Shepard you need more Zielwasser.”_

_Shepard turned again a little shaky on her legs. “You got any?”_

“ _I am sorry, but we left it upstairs because,” he thought for a moment, “because we didn't want to get ourselves killed rigging your home.”_

“ _And we are rigging it because?” Shepard gazed around, looking for the trees next to the entrance again. When she found them, she set off in a beeline, ignoring the couch in her way. Seeing her climbing over the item awkwardly, Zaeed decided to avoid it. He arrived at the glass before her and watched her encumbered progress._

_Though she was still swaying slightly when she arrived, Shepard took a strip of charges from Zaeed's hand and pinned one end to the glass. She plastered the remaining adhesive fuse against the glass. At the bottom, she simply folded it and let the remainder run along the floor. “Easy-peasy.”_

“ _If you say so.” Zaeed followed her lead._

_Without many incidents that mostly involved fingers glued to the glass and charges sticking to clothes, they finished. Taking a step back, Shepard admired their work. “Looks like the trees are in a snow storm now.”_

“ _It isn't really what I had in mind,” Zaeed mused. “But the intruder won't be tipped off by its looks because it will already have exploded then.”_

“ _And I like it,” she said. “Abstract. Bubbly. Pretty. And all we have to do now is connect them to the door's electronics.”_

“ _I'm already on it.” Zaeed poked at the control paned with another knife. “Your apartment will be foolproof.”_

“ _Right. Good. Up for drinks when we finished here?”_

“ _We have only just stopped drinking,” Zaeed said without looking up from his work. “Alcohol poisoning is not a hobby.”_

“ _Says who?” She joined him, pointing her omni-tool at the access panel._

 

“Why were we doing that again?” Shepard sighed as she watched Zaeed sweep together the glass.

“So you'd be safe in your home,” he replied over the rattling of the fragments.

“And the reason I am safe in my apartment right now is?”

“A full set of N7 armour,” he admitted, propping his hands and chin on top of the broom.

“Something you might consider using yourself if your home is as secured as mine.”

“I have hardly a scratch.” Zaeed looked at his exposed arm and its brand new cuts. “Most of the glass bounced off your armour and only a few pieces ricochetted in my direction.”

“A good thing that I went in first then.” Shepard sighed, letting her eyes wander over the pile of glass sitting in the middle of her floor like a silent accusation.

“You know that I'm always right behind you,” Zaeed followed her eyes but did not take up sweeping again.

“Don't remind me.” There were incidents Shepard didn't talk about and even avoided thinking about if possible. “I guess, I'll just call a cleaning service for this.”

“You could have done that right away,” Zaeed complained.

“I know,” she agreed. “But I wanted you to learn a lesson.”

“I did learn a lesson alright,” he grumbled,

Shepard thought for a moment. “Which lesson?” she asked then cautiously.

“I learnt that can be a bitch.”

“If you learnt that only now, you are really slow on the pick-up, Massani.” Shaking her head, she tried to walk up the stairs to the upper level.

Zaeed pulled her back by the shoulder before her foot connected to the first step, though. “We rigged those, Commander. And your armour won't hold up against those charges.”

Shepard turned to look at him. “We rigged everything, didn't we?”

“Hell yeah.” He grinned. “But we did leave a safe path. In theory at least because you triggered the first alarm in the door and activated all safety measurements.”

“Just my luck,” Shepard sighed. “What now?”

“We clear a path anyway,” Zaeed said. “I'm right behind you.”


	2. The Safe Apartment II

“So, what do we have?” Shepard leant back on the sofa, looking at the pad in her hands. “The stairs at the front are impassable because we pressure rigged every single step, not to mention the wall and bannister.”

“Damn right.” Zaeed leant back as well looking more pleased than the situation called for in Shepard's mind.

“And the corridor between the kitchen and the fire place is secured with a laser grid.” She called up the schematics. “Not even a pyjak could get through there.”

“That was the aim.” Zaeed sounded satisfied. “We were working on that grid for hours.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that.” Shepard rubbed her forehead. It was likely that only two drunk idiots could come up with a foolproof grid like this. Or maybe EDI. “And we added similar safety grids in the doors at the back of the kitchen.”

“Better safe 'n sorry. Face it Shepard, this place was a death trap.”

“Is, Massani. This place _is_ a death trap.” Shepard sighed. “So how was I supposed to get through the gap behind the fireplace?”

“Damned if I know.” Zaeed got up, took a cushion and threw it into the mentioned gap. It lit up spectacularly. “In something fireproof, I'd suggest.” Then it exploded. “And resistant to high speed darts.”

So that was where the prototype had ended up. Finding it again should have cheered Shepard up more. The weapon was extremely efficient, expensive and lethal. Some days she was just glad nobody ever did an inventory of the gear she had been given.

“Did we record where we put the weapons anywhere?” Her mind came up blank but it did that for more of that evening than she cared to admit. How drunk did you have to be to forget how, not to mention that, you rigged your whole flat? And how many guarding angels had lost their lives protecting them while doing so?

“Of course not,” Zaeed said. “What if it fell into enemy hands?”

“And you did not think for, oh, maybe a moment, that we might be too drunk to remember it all?”

“Did you, Shep?” He grinned.

“Obviously not, but then I was drunk.” She sighed.

“In theory,” Zaeed explained, “you only had to remember entering the extra code for the door. That sounded easy.”

“When has anything with me ever been easy, Zaeed?” Biting her lip, Shepard tried to remember more details about the flame-thrower/darts prototype set-up.

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” He mused. “Might take a bit. We have quite a history by now.”

“Take all the time you need.” She eyed the remaining cushions on the couch. How high did the motion detectors go? She tried to throw the cushion through the gap just under the ceiling. It went up in flames with another whoosh. When it was halfway down a dart hit it, scattering burning feathers in all directions.

“Shouldn't the fire alarms go off or something?” Shepard was tempted to push the ashes around with her boot. But they were still in the aisle between wall and fireplace. It might cost her a foot.

“We must have thought of some way to get around it.” She flopped down on the couch again and stared glumly at the fireplace.

 

“ _What about this?” Shepard giggled around a hiccough as she handed Zaeed the pad. Her eyes were scanning for the bottle of whisky she knew had still to be around somewhere._

“ _Shep, the aim is to create an impenetrable net so intruders can't get to the upper level,” Zaeed said after looking at her sketch. “Not getting the most space dicks drawn with the number of lasers and mirrors we have.”_

“ _Spoilsport.” She leant over, snatching back the pad. “What's the good of a laser grid to keep out intruders if it doesn't offend them at the same time?”_

“ _The lasers will be invisible,” he lectured. “If you try to make them visibly with powder or something, they explode.”_

_Shepard giggled. “My whole flat will explode.”_

“ _That's the point.” Zaeed said smugly and took a sip from the bottle. His self-satisfied grin did him a disservice there, as half of the intended mouthful dribbled down his chin. “Goddammit.”_

“ _Hand that over,” Shepard demanded “If you can't even drink, you don't get any more.”_

“ _Come and get it,” Zaeed countered holding the bottle out of her reach._

_After calculating the jump, Shepard launched and only missed him by a meter or so. Rolling onto her back she stared up at the ceiling ponderously. “Do you think I can program a grid that is impenetrable and still consists of space dicks?”_

“ _Not the state you're in, no.” He looked down at her over the backrest. He wouldn't put it past her to go out to look for samples. The image of Commander Shepard, fucking wasted paragon of humanity, stumbling over the Silversun Strip asking random aliens to show their bits was hilarious. He snorted into the bottleneck._

“ _What's so funny?” She hoisted herself up._

“ _Well,” Zaeed tried to think fast which wasn't easy inebriated as he was. But if he tipped Shepard off now, there was no knowing what she'd do. “I mean, space dicks? What about space vaginas?”_

_Shepard got up and steadied herself on the couch. “Too difficult. Have you seen them?”_

“ _Disregarding that,” Zaeed said, “I'm curious how you'd describe them.”_

“ _Well.” Shepard drew the word out, watching her hands slowly slip down the backrest. “Salarians for one don't have any. And cloacae,” she shrugged, “don't look like much. Nobody would ever recognise that.”_

“ _Firsthand experience?” Zaeed raised an inquisitive brow._

“ _Nah.” Shepard clawed into the leather with her fingers and no real success at stopping her descent. “But once Mordin was assured that I wasn't hitting on him any more he was rather helpful.” She blinked a sudden tear away. “I miss him.”_

“ _Vicious bastard,” Zaeed agreed. “Looked like he couldn't hurt a fly, but would shoot you as soon as look at you. A little bit hectic if you ask me, though.” He waved the bottle around in emphasis._

_Shepard followed it with her eyes at first, then her whole head. Finding that amusing, Zaeed let it take a few extra rounds until she gave up and just rested her chin on his shoulder. “Could sing too,” she sighed. “And let me run experiments to compare skin texture so I'd shut up.”_

“ _Do you get that touchy-feely with all your friends?” Zaeed wanted to know._

“ _Only the really close ones.” Shepard made sucking lips in the direction of the bottle._

_Zaeed complied and put the whisky to her lips, letting her have another long drink She still pouted, when he pulled bottle away again her eyes fixating on the fireplace._

“ _There, there.” He tried to pat her comfortingly with his free hand but failed to do anything but clumsily rub her hair against the grain. “What else?”_

“ _Well, there's krogan,” Shepard replied without taking her eyes of the fireplace. “Redundant organs and all. Difficult to draw even with unlimited lasers.”_

“ _Are you implying that-”_

“ _I'm not implying anything,” she cut him off. “Though, as you may remember, I did have that breeding request after we killed that Thresher Maw on Tuchanka.”_

“ _Hell of a fight,” Zaeed sighed. “We're still talking females here right?”_

_Shepard giggled, her head bobbing up and down on his shoulder. “Never specified the sex of the requester, did I?”_

“ _Shep?”_

“ _Yes?”_

“ _Why are sou staring at the fireplace like that?”_

“ _Wondering.” She raised her hands and gesticulates. “Why not go through there?”_

“ _What, through the fireplace?” Zaeed frowned and took another swig of whisky. “What for?”_

“ _Well, we have lasers for the kitchen and central hallway. That leaves the space between the window and the fireplace,” Shepard explained. “A bit obvious, is it not?”_

“ _Nobody's will see the lasers, Shep,” Zaeed explained again._

“ _But,” she grabbed at his chest plate and a sudden tug-and-throw later found herself sitting on the floor before the couch. “How did I not even break anything?” She leant her head back on the couch until she could peer at the mercenary._

_Zaeed looked rather smug and took the chance to pour more whisky into her mouth. Most of it made it too, until it resurfaced in a bout of spluttering when Shepard tried to swallow._

“ _Must be some kind of drunk super reflexes. Nothing else makes sense.”_

“ _Well, making sense.” She ran the back of her arm over her face and licked it experimentally. “So we take the flame-thrower and the dart-thrower prototype and fix them up between the window and fireplace and then – boom!” Shepard jumped up with the last word, staggering with wide open arms towards the gap. “Everybody will go up in flames and explode. It's gonna be so pretty!”_

“ _And then you go through the fireplace and light up yourself,” Zaeed nodded. “Poetic justice.”_

“ _Psh, I won't,” she huffed. “You just watch me.”_

“ _I have a much better plan.” Zaeed pushed the pad back at her. “You get that grid done and I will see to the fireplace. And, young lady,” he levelled a finger at her, “no more space dicks. Or cunts”_

“ _Prude.” Shepard took the pad. “And anyway, I am the biggest cunt you will find in space. So what about a me-shaped hole in the grid?”_

_Zaeed shut her up by giving her the bottle of Mount Milgrom. He watched for a while as she tried to read and drink at the same time._

 

“Right,” Shepard got up. “I'm going through the fireplace.”

“Like that?” Zaeed asked.

“Like how else?” She asked back. “I killed a Thresher Maw. On foot. And I killed a reaper. On foot. How bad can it be?”

“I am thinking 'Head against the wall and going up in flames'-bad,” he replied. “That thing was not made to be fireproof.” He rapped a knuckle against her armour.

“It holds up well enough against Pyros and such,” Shepard huffed.

“Because you have a damned good team with you to watch your back, Shep,” Zaeed said.

“Well, then that is all settled, huh?” After giving him a meaningful glance, she aimed for the fireplace. “Last one to the bar doesn't get any!”

Shepard took a short start-up and jumped into the fireplace with her arms spearheading the motion. On the other side she broke her fall landing one one arm and rolling over it into an upright position.

“Are you still alive there, Shep?” Zaeed called from the other side.

“Alive and kicking.” Shepard stomped her boots a few times to stop the soles from glowing. “You do remember removing the wall in there, right, Massani? Get your sorry arse over here or I'll kick it.”

“I really want to stay now and see the logistics of that at work,” came the reply.

“You realise I am famous for achieving the impossible, right?” Shepard chuckled.

Zaeed came careening through the fireplace, stopped short by the next couch. “You realise that so am I?”

Taking a step backwards, Shepard crossed her arms before her. “So this is a competition now?”

“Between the two of us?” He asked back. “That is a laughable notion, Shep. The answer is too obvious.”

“Right,” she snorted. It was probably better not to poke that issue. They might have to fight it out and that would not be pretty. “Do you have any memories about this place? About us rigging it, I mean. Hiding behind the couch with Javik and playing war does not count.”

Zaeed looked hurt and walked towards the bar. “We did not rig the bar, that much is for certain. Some things you just don't do.”


	3. The Safe Apartment III

“Right.” Shepard scrutinised the gap between the window and the fireplace. “How do we disable the weapons?”

“We don't,” Zaeed replied. “They will shut down automatically one the security system is shut down.”

“Don't tell me." She gave him a blank stare. “The command console for that is upstairs beside the hot tub.”

“It's good to see your memory isn't shot all the way to hell.” Zaeed grinned. “That should also take care of the kitchen appliances and guest bedrooms.”

“Oh fuck.” Shepard buried her head in her hands. “I had forgotten about those.”

And there was a lot to forget. The shuriken throwing toaster, an imploding oven, plasma beam shooting coffee machine, laser enabled lamps, a fridge outfitted with snowblind rounds. It all had seemed reasonable when they installed it. Come to think of it, she might just enjoy building death traps with Zaeed a little too much. A decided weakness. Though, maybe, in case they survived this war, there was a career somewhere in that.

“We'd better make a list for the service team,” she decided. “I don't want to get sued to the bone when somebody gets hurt as they prep it for sale.”

“Shep,” Zaeed replied, “if those traps go of it means that you died in the Reaper War. You need some perspective.”

“Well.” Shepard couldn't think of a counterargument. “Still, people might get hurt. And I might forget again.”

“Alright.” Zaeed activated his omni-tool compiling the list. “Do you want me to add the guest toilets to the list, too?”

“You'd better,” she sighed. The idea of an exploding flat had been alluring for unknown reasons with half a bottle Mount Milgrom in her blood stream. Returning to that state was actually very alluring right now. But first they had to disable this security death trap.

At least the area behind the fireplace was somewhat safe. Zaeed was rifling through the bar for something non-alcoholic that was not a syrup. The party had made more of a dent in her supplies than she had thought.

Shepard picked up an ice cube that the mercenary finally found and crushed it between her teeth while throwing another ice cube up the flight of stairs. Nothing happened. “At least we didn't put lasers over the stairs as well.”

“That might have necessitated some more acrobatics than you are capable of, Shep,” Zaeed said. “You will have enough trouble getting up there as it is.”

“Oh, really?” She shot him a challenging death glare.

 

“ _Shepard. Shep,” Zaeed tried again, “you can't dance. Think about it.”_

“ _I did.” She pointed with her index finger around the bottle of Mount Milgrom. “That's why it is perfect.”_

“ _What? Shep, you dance worse than a hanar with leg braces.” He ignored the slightly unfocussed glare. “It looks horrible but I am certain it can easily be copied.”_

“ _Oh, do you?” Shepard huffed. “I thought it was common knowledge that nobody dances like me.”_

_Zaeed kept his mouth shut until the first four replies had passed. “That is something I won't argue,” he finally said._

“ _You mean, you cannot.” She allowed him to pry the whisky from her hand. “My dancing is unique.”_

_Taking a long swig, Zaeed swallowed several more replies with it again. “That much is true. It is still a stupid idea.”_

“ _No, it's brilliant,” Shepard insisted. “And not even my clone can beat me at it if I chose a recent song.”_

“ _Do you expect another one?” Zaeed asked._

“ _You never know. Better safe than sorry.” Shepard activated her omni-tool to browse through her music collection. “I think I'll chose something spunky.”_

“ _Shepard,” Zaeed said with resignation in his tone, " how will you even remember the choreography?”_

“ _I won't have to. That's why it's brilliant,” she replied. “I'll know when I hear the song.”_

“ _That's goddamned suicide,” he objected._

“ _Been there, done that.” Shepard recovered the bottle and drank again. “Never stopped me so far.”_

“ _There is a first time for everything.”_

“ _Avert your eyes if you have to,” she snapped. Then she started an upbeat song, nodding her head almost in synch with the rhythm._

“ _Maybe I better record it.” Zaeed activated his own omni-tool._

“ _No. We can't risk it falling into enemy hands,” Shepard trotted out his favourite argument against documenting anything._

_Zaeed doubted that anybody would be insane enough to watch Commander Shepard badly shuffle up a flight of stairs to horrible music all the way to the end. He also doubted that Shepard would see it the same way._

“ _Whatever.” He didn't turn off the recording, covering that up with taking the whisky from her hands and taking a swig. “It is going to be your funeral.”_

_Shepard snorted and waited for the chorus to start, her feet trying to catch the beat as she eyed the flight of stairs ahead._

 

“Give me that recording.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Shep.”

“I would believe you but for the smug grin on your face,” she replied. “So don't deny it.”

“But you told me not to record it,” Zaeed protested.

“And of course you complied.” Shepard crossed her arms before her.

“Don't I always?” He asked back.

“Do you?”

“Now that hurts, Shepard.” He mirrored her pose.

“So will my fist in your face,” she retorted.

“So you are down to threats now? That's really low for the paragon of humanity.”

“Zaeed, I didn't even remember the song I chose,” Shepard replied. “I had to use the time stamping of my omni-tool to find out.”

Zaeed tried to suppress laughter without much success. “I had no idea you were that wasted already back then.”

“I wasn't. My brain just refuses to remember such an embarrassing incident.” Shepard lowered her omni-tool at him. “Now cough it, Massani.”

The mercenary transferred the desired file to her tool, unable to keep from chuckling as he did so.

“If you laugh, I'll disembowel you myself,” Shepard grumbled. “Not to mention I won't let you watch.”

“Why would I want to watch that?” Zaeed asked.

“Have you considered how _you_ are going to get up there?” She looked up with a grin. “No? Thought so.”

The realisation crawling over the mercenary's face was reward enough. Shepard turned her attention back to the recording with a sigh. This would be undignified. Only the thought of Zaeed having to imitate her made the whole thing actually worth it. As the chorus set in, she made her first shuffling step up the stairs.

It was not so bad once she had started. The rhythm was easy enough to follow and If she didn't look in Zaeed's direction there was nothing to distract her. Let him be smug if he wanted, she would happily return the favour in a few minutes. For a moment she wondered whether or not to add some ridiculous if totally unnecessary movements into the choreography.

The stairs had never seemed so long. Finally she reached the top landing. “Ready, Zaeed?”

“I will kill you, Shep.”

“Get in line.” She grinned.

“You wish,” he sighed as he approached the stairs warily. “But if you think that I will rip through the long line of Reapers after your arse, you are mistaken.”

“It is something I'd pay to see,” Shepard replied. “Probably with Alliance funding, though.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Zaeed said. “Maybe you could take care of the exploding art while I get up there.”

She frowned until she remembered. “Why were we putting up paintings we did with explosive paint again, Zaeed?”

He stopped at the very foot of the stairs. “Because of the Warp field that is blocking the direct passage from the stairs to the master bedroom?”

“We got a working Warp field running in my flat?” Shepard sighed. Of course they had. It had been fiddly, another prototype. “Where did we even get it? Do I really want to know?”

“You're Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, Hero of the Citadel and Saviour of the Galaxy,” Zaeed said. “Not to mention you are best friends with the Shadow Broker. If a technology exists, it will end up in your hands.

“Well.” Shepard shrugged half-hearted. “You're probably right about that. Okay, I'll see to the paintings. You better be ready to remove the wall panels.”

“I will be ready for the hardest earned drink in my life once I am up those stairs,” he said.

“No drinks until the flat is clean,” Shepard levelled a finger at him. “I mean it. Even if I could use a few myself already.”

“Next time-”

“There will be no next time, Zaeed,” Shepard cut him off. “If I ever even try a next time, just shoot me.”

“And who will get me out of that lawsuit alive?” Zaeed wanted to know. “I would be off better shooting myself.”

“Oh well, in that case.” Shepard thought for a moment. “Just tie my hands to something until it wears off.”

“Shep, I had no idea...”

“Zaeed?” She inclined her head. “Don't.”

He just shrugged and finally began his shuffling ascent.


	4. The Safe Apartment IV

As difficult as it was, Shepard turned her back on the awkwardly shuffling Zaeed. There would be a time to get the security footage of that later. And a place to figure out what exactly to do with it. Right now-, she ran her omni-tool over the paintings on the gallery.

The problem was not getting past them but taking them down. Their backs were fused to the painting on the other side of the wall, making that difficult. If they were taken down without the proper precautions, a fuse would light upon contact with air and turn the paint into strips of explosives. Shepard decided that if she never saw an innovative explosive again, she might be able to die a happy person. If she did, she might just die before her time.

“Those things look horrible,” she muttered under her breath, tracing the fuses.

“What did you expect?” Zaeed came to a halt beside her. “You may be better with a brush than you are on the dance floor, but that doesn't mean much in your case.”

“Your technique could use some improvement, too,” Shepard returned. “At least we were going for the abstract look. You were, weren't you?”

“The world will never know,” he replied staring at the mutilated canvases before them.

 

“ _We should have taken a course or something,” Shepard sighed. “This is more difficult than I expected.”_

“ _Well.” Zaeed looked down at the canvas as long as he was tall. “Putting them somewhere upright might have helped. You can't get at the middle very well like this.”_

_Running the back of her hand over her forehead, Shepard smeared blue colour over it. “You're right. But it's too late for that now. We'd ruin the floor.”_

“ _Here, Shep,” he held up his omni-too. “I found a bunch of tutorials.”_

“ _Good idea.” She crouched down beside him. “Show me what you've got.”_

“ _I'm not sure any of that was helpful,” Shepard said some time later. “I am certainly not going for happy clouds here.”_

“ _Yeah, it does rather look like a depressed ocean,” Zaeed agreed._

“ _Your flowers are on Creeper or worse,” she replied scrutinising the colourful canvas of the mercenary. “They are flowers, right?”_

“ _It definitely looks happier than yours,” he only replied adding a few more red dots._

“ _You realise that you will have to put in some blue to trigger it, right?” Shepard tilted her head._

“ _Leave that to me. I know what I am doing.”_

_Shepard had no way to verify that. But considering how she was handling the explosive paints for the first time too, it was safe to assume the he knew as much as she did. About this at least. “Might be easier to douse ourselves in paint and roll over the canvas.”_

“ _Be my guest,” Zaeed said. “Just remember that the last safe water in this place is in the kitchen sink.”_

_For a moment she still considered the option. Maybe just dipping her hands into the paint would suffice? It was worth a try. And the paint was safe. Unless you added the fuse and exposed that to oxygen, nothing would happen. Still, she felt a rush of adrenaline as she submerged her hands in the blue liquid._

_It dripped faster than she had thought and left a trail across the black which was turned into a curved line across the canvas. Propping the pictures up would indeed have helped. With a shrug Shepard distributed more paint in unexpected areas. No, this was not working as desired. Oh well. She swept the paint across the black until the edges were nicely curved._

_Zaeed was still dotting the canvas with random spots of colour. He looked suspiciously at peace. Shepard held a blue hand over his canvas threateningly._

“ _A little to the right and a few inches higher,” was his only reaction._

_Shepard complied, but the paint was too dried up already to drip. So much for that. “I tried.”_

“ _I have noticed.” Zaeed spared a look for her. “Are you done turning into a wannabe asari?”_

_She looked at her blue hands. “Do you think it would suit me?”_

“ _Why not?” He shrugged. “You only need more colour and to work on that scalp some. It's missing those tentacle things.” He indicated the scalp crests with wriggling fingers._

_Automatically Shepard ran her hands over her head, applying the last of the paint on it. “Thank you, Massani.”_

“ _I didn't do anything,” Zaeed replied. He ignored the paint dripping from the brush he was pointing at her. “If you had a little more hair, you could easily style the tentacles with that and paint.”_

_Shepard dropped her hands. “Well, I'm done.” She ignored Zaeed peering sceptically at her painting. “You go on and make as many dots on that canvas as you like.”_

_Leaving the mercenary squatting on the floor, she headed towards their stock. The fuses would light up when exposed to air, so she would have to embed them in a very clever system to avoid spontaneous combustion. Shepard liked to have air to breathe in her apartment._

 

“Okay, I'll douse the fuses and you will hold the paintings apart so I can climb through.” Shepard set off towards the sculpture at the far end of the balcony. At least the thought it was a sculpture. Anderson had never talked much about his hobbies. The only other thing she could come up with was very, very avant-garde and even more uncomfortable seating furniture.

“And you are sure you will fit with your armour?” He sounded sceptic.

“I will. And so will you.” She turned just long enough to level a finger at him. “After all it was your idea.”

“My idea?” Zaeed contrived to sound hurt. “What alternative was there? You had the paintings wired to the wall and adjoining painting so well that they wouldn't budge far. You could have consulted with me first.”

“And you would have had a better idea?” Shepard fumbled with the big metal pieces, pushing them into a new formation.

“Of course. I have twenty years of experience on you.”

“You spent half of them tracking petty criminals and gamblers,” Shepard replied moving the last piece into place. There was a short whirring noise and something started to smell slightly burnt. “Oops?”

“It doesn't come from the paintings,” Zaeed said.

“Well, there is hope.” Shepard looked at the wall behind the gap between the paintings. “Looks like it was something in the hydraulics, the panel only slid away partly.”

“That doesn't sound like something brute strength won't solve.” Zaeed gripped at the panel behind Shepard's painting and pushed hard. There was a rattle. The wall shook a little but did not explode. “There you go, Shep.”

Shepard eyes the opening cautiously. It was tight. And it didn't help that one of Zaeed's arms was crossing before the opening as he held the panels apart. Oh well, she had flexibility. Allegedly. Time to prove that.

A short tangle and sudden shove later, Shepard unfolded on the floor on the other side of the wall. “That was not necessary, Zaeed.”

“You were stuck, Shepard. Admit it.” He was unapologetic.

“Not by a long mile, Massani,” she called through the opening. “You have never seen me squirm before.”

“You're a short streak of nothing,” came the reply. “I never saw the appeal.”

“Watch it, Massani, or I'll just let the panels close with you caught in the middle.”

“Idle threats.” The mercenary squeezed through the small gap, losing his shoulder plate in the process. “Now let's move that tree so the mass effect field goes offline.”


	5. The Safe Apartment V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of the Safe Apartment series.  
> Art in end comments.

Naturally, the tree bent exactly the way where it laid across the corridor. But what was a little climbing after all this? Shepard shook a few leaves out of her sleeve. The hum of the mass effect field had fallen silent with the tree and peering around the corner, it was indeed gone. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“I can' believe it has taken us a whole afternoon,” she began when a hailstorm of feathers came at them. Unfortunately, the feathers were not of the soft kind, but hardened in sharp-hardening plex, hurling around their heads like a hurricane of shuriken.

“What was that?” She retreated around the corner again watching the flurry pass by and pile up on the stairs.

“Did you really forget about the tripwire?” Zaeed gave her a stern look. “Really? Shep?”

 

“ _There,” Zaeed pointed at the ground. “It is perfect.”_

“ _A tripwire?” She crossed her arms before her. “That the best you can come up with?”_

“ _Nobody is going to expect a tripwire here after all the other security measures,” Zaeed objected. “Think about it.”_

“ _I am,” she countered. “And I can think of nobody stupid enough to let down their guard here._

“ _Indulge an old mercenary with an inclination for outdated tech,” he replied._

“ _Well,” she sighed. “I guess it can't hurt.”_

 

“Can't hurt, huh?” Shepard grumbled. “What was I thinking?”

“I would say something but I prefer to be alive,” Zaeed said. “At least now you know who'd be that careless.”

“Shut it, Massani. Or better still, tell me for how long this will continue.” The hardened feathers tinkled softly as they tumbled over each other and down the stairs.

“It doesn't stop until it runs out of feathers,” he replied. “And it is hooked up to your spare duvets in the closet.”

“Just great. Time for my preferred tactics.” Shepard unslung her missile launcher. “This armour is not all down on juice yet.” With that she stepped right back into the doorway.

“I hate it when you do that.” Zaeed watched from the safety around the corner. “The mechanism is off to the left side near the foot. Shouldn't be a problem with that.”

“No,” Shepard replied, “no it is not a problem.” She aimed her missile launcher at the bed and pulled the trigger. The room exploded in a flurry of burning feathers. “Who needs a bed anyway?”

“You have two more of them, Shep,” Zaeed reminded her.

“Good to know.” She holstered the weapon. “And probably usable once we get this shut down. Anything left but the hot tub now?”

“Not that I know of,” he replied.

Shepard was not sure that that was a reassuring answer.

But they reached the console sunk in the vanity without further incidents. Shepard opened the display and entered the code to shut down the security. One by one the red marks on the plan of her apartment went green. All except for one. “Zaeed?”

“Did you, by any chance, or maybe even accidentally, in cooperation with Garrus install the safety for my hot tub already on the party?” She felt like crossing her arms and tapping a foot.

“It is not what it looks like,” he defended. “At least not completely. Garrus and I did change the set up after you said that your clone would have the same DNA as you. It was too complicated to remove the feature, so we,” he waved a hand in what was probably supposed to look explanatory, “adjusted it.”

“Adjusted it how?” Shepard asked. “No, I don't want to know. Turn it off.”

“Easy.” He crouched down beside the hot tub, opening a floor panel. “Turning it off completely is easy. We didn't want to leave you unprotected, though.”

“And you wanted to achieve this by not telling me it was still rigged and accidentally cook myself?”

“Nah, you don't come here often.” Zaeed pulled a few wires into the light. “It would have been easy enough to make sure one of us was with you.”

“And?” Shepard gave in and tapped her foot.

“Nothing and.” He cut one of the cables and rewired the others. “One of us would have been with you.”

“You mean in the tub?” The foot stopped tapping. “Are you serious?”

“It is the safest way. And there is space enough to add more people.” Zaeed pushed the wires back under the floor and attached the panel. “I am certain Doctor Chakwas has samples of all eligible team members,” Zaeed continued. “Won't need Joker, though. He's no help in a fight. And who knows if Tali can get out of her suit-”

“Zaeed,” Shepard interrupted him. “What if I want to enjoy a long hot bath all by myself?”

“Why would you do that?” He looked taken aback. “Look at the size of this thing. Anyway, we have disabled the system now.”

That much was true. Shepard looked at the mercenary still crouching next to her hot tub. Temptation gained the upper hand. It took only a swift push to topple Zaeed into the water. To her disappointment, he didn't even make a surprised noise. Only his hand swept out, grabbing her ankle and unbalancing her as well.

The armour plates broke her fall but didn't save her from plunging into the hot water herself. “You!” She spluttered, taking of the helmet that had started fizzling once submerged.

“I could say the same,” Zaeed replied. “And you started it.”

Shepard splashed water in his general direction. “You were insufferable. You and your stupid idiot ideas.”

“Me?” He sent a wave back at her. “Half of those ideas were yours!”

“Pfsh.” She sank deeper into the water, making bubbles as she muttered. “At least the tub works fine. I think.”

“Give me one moment.” Zaeed got up and climbed out of the hot tub, dripping water all over he floors as he left. She could hear him rummage around before her returned again, the open bottle Mount Milgrom in his hand. He threw it to her before splashing back into the water. 

“The solution to everything,” Shepard sighed uncorking the whisky.

But she had not been cooked while the mercenary had been away. She would take that as a good sign. “We did it. Next stop Reaper HQ.”

“For you maybe.” Zaeed waited until he had taken her first swig before appropriating the bottle. “I am going to stick it out on Earth.”

“That is Reaper Headquarters, Zaeed.”

“Don't I know it.” For a while they drank in silence. “So, Anadius for you? When do you start?”

Shepard sighed and took another long swallow. “Too soon. Let's talk about something nice. There hasn't been enough nice in my life lately.”

“Scratch Thessia, Shep. That's just one setback.” He slapped her back. “You made peace between the geth and the quarians. Nobody thought that was possible.”

“Yeah.” She slumped, closing her eyes.

“In the end even Tali-,” Zaeed stopped himself.

For a moment Shepard just made bubbles. Then she rose high enough again to talk, eyeing the whisky as she did so. “I miss Legion. He died for his people but still. They are not him.”

“They never are. And it was not your fault.”

“Unlike Thessia.”

“Shep.” He dunked her. When she came up again, he continued. “Happy thoughts, remember?”

“Will do my best.” She reached for the bottle. “Will need help.”

“Help yourself with that.” Zaeed leant back, thinking for a moment. “Can you think about curing the genophage?”

Shepard drank, dank again and peered over the bottom of the bottle. “Maybe a little.”

“You really liked Mordin, huh?” Zaeed thought it safer to separate the commander and the whisky for a bit.

“Yeah.” Putting her head in her neck, she sighed. “He was, he was. I can't. But Wrex is so pleased, and you should have seen Eve. She will sure keep him on track.”

“She sounds like hell of a woman,” he agreed. “And if she can keep Wrex in line, I don't want to cross her.”

“She's formidable and she deserves to have children.” Shepard sighed. “And still.”

“Mordin.”

“Yeah.” Shepard sighed. “He had such a head on his shoulders. Thoughts faster than light-speed. Could sing, too. Funny guy. And could handle a gun like nobody's business on top of that.” She took another sip of the whisky.” He wasn't interested, though.”

“His loss,” Zaeed replied. “And I'm sorry. That he's dead, too.”

“Thank you.” She handed him the bottle after another swig. “What about you? Anybody you want me to hook you up with?”

“No, I'm good.” He held the bottle up against the light before putting it to his lips.

“Liar.”

“If you have to.” Zaeed shrugged. “Wouldn't say no to a tryst with Samara.”

“Her uncompromising code makes her sexy as hell,” Shepard agreed. “She can kill you with a look, too. Don't think I can make her do that, though, even with me thrown in.”

“Huh, so you but not me?” He took another swallow. “Goddamned. But you're the one commander as could bang their whole crew. Well almost.”

“Yeah, should have made more use of that, I guess.” She held out her hand. “Like after hitting the Collector Base. Everybody strung high and on abating adrenaline with nowhere to put their confusion.”

“That would have worked,” Zaeed agreed.

“Wait, you said almost?”

“Well Mordin for one.” He gave her the whisky.

“But he is dead now, may his name live forever.” Shepard toasted the air and took a long drink. “So it's everybody now. Sad but true?”

“That still leaves me, Shep.” He took the bottle back.

“Damned.”

“Right.”

“I'd love to prove you wrong, Massani.” She laid back with her eyes closed.

”But?”

“Not even interested the least myself.”

“Damned straight.” He drank again. “So it's back to you playing matchmaker. Just look around,” Zaeed indicated the rest of the tub, “enough space for at least two more people.”

“Too bad Mordin is dead.” Shepard acquired the whisky again and took another swig of the emptying bottle. “Well, Jacob's off the menu.”

“What about Thane?” Zaeed asked.

“Nah, looks like a frog but actually needs dry environment,” she said. “But hell of an assassin.”

“You researched that?” He took the bottle from her hands scrutinising it for a moment. “You do that for everybody?”

“I am not blind, Zaeed,” Shepard huffed. “Have you seen my team? Of course I ogle all their sorry asses. Best team of the galaxy, even in the arse department. So Garrus maybe, need some alien ass in a tub like this.”

“Still voting Samara,” Zaeed said.

“Eh, asari are not doing much for me.” She shrugged. “I'm likely more of a man's lady.”

“Got a nice new acquisition in that department,” he grinned.

“Vega? Yeah, he's a sight for sore eyes. Takes up space for two, though.” Shepard squinted as if placing the squad members in question in the tub. “Flirts like there's no tomorrow, too.”

“There might not be, Shep,” Zaeed said. “There might very well not be.”

“Yah, just about forgot about that.” She grinned. “Thank you for that. Carped diem, I'd say.”

“You would?”

“You know what? I'll do better.” Her omni-too made strained sounds when she called it up. “EDI, please patch me through to Vega.”

“Yes, Commander.” There was a short pause.

“Commander Shepard?”

“Hi James.” Shepard hiccuped, splashing a little in the process.

“Where are you, Commander?”

“In my apartment, hot tub,” she replied, raising her voice as the last of her armour's electronics gave out.

“What was that?” James wanted to know.

“Nothing. Health boost. I think.” She hiccuped again. “The armour is not made for full submersion.”

“What was that snort, commander? Are you in company?” He sounded alarmed.

“Yeah, that was Massani. His armour doesn't have much in the way of electronics, so they all fizzled out ages ago. Anyway, you need to help me out here.”

“With what?” James asked. “Are you drunk?” He added a heartbeat later.

“Yes. So, would you be down for some sex if I asked?” Shepard went on.

“How drunk are you?” The alarm in James' voice increased.

“Don't know.” She raised the bottle and squinted at it. “Bottle got submerged and filled up again. So?”

“We were almost done with it, though,” Zaeed chimed in helpfully. “But yeah. Sex?”

“You too?”

The mercenary considered for a moment, then shrugged. “If you're game.”

“Are you asking me for a threesome?”

“No,” Shepard said immediately. “Though in general, if it's not Massani, why not?”

“Same here,” Zaeed added.

“You're both totally plastered,” James decided.

“Doesn't answer my question.” Shepard took a swig from the bottle and made a face.

“Bosh'tet.” Vega hung up on them.

“I take that as a yes,” she decided, handing the bottle to Zaeed.

The mercenary looked at the watered down content and dropped it into the pool. “How do we get out again?”

Shepard raised a tentative leg. The armour was heavy without the electronic enhancements; her helmet had long sunk to the bottom. “Has to have a plug somewhere, right?”

“It is your tub, Shep.”

“I have never used it before, Zaeed.”

“Why not? It's a goddamned great tub.”

“Because you rigged it to kill me?”

“Ah, right.” He looked around. “So. Out?”

“This way.” Shepard dove down and then began to move towards the other side of the hot tub. Reaching it, she came up, holding on to the edge spluttering.

Zaeed followed, choosing to walk. “Are you OK?”

“Sure.” She gasped. “Just give me a minute to work out which way is up.”

“Vega got that right.” He climbed out of the water, pulling Shepard after him. “You are totally wasted.”

“Just leave me here.” She stretched out her arms as she laid on her back. “Don't have a bed anyways.”

Zaeed sat down and leant his back against the vanity. “Actually you do. Even on this floor.”

Shepard waited for him to elaborate or suggest a plan of action. After a while there was a gentle snore. Yeah, well. She turned over, leaking water from all joints. Getting up felt like too much trouble though. She'd slept in worse places. And if he snored too loudly, she reached put with a foot tentatively. This would do.

The gentle bubbling of the hot tub was soothing. For a moment she wondered if that was why Javik- but immediately decided that he, too was a topic too sad to think about. About everything was. Shepard decided to escape the sorry fate of thinking through sleep. At least for a while.

And they had made the apartment safe again. She smiled as she fell asleep in the knowledge that at least nobody would die in the assessment of this place. Small victories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	6. A Matter of Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic premise: all casual outfits in ME2 either sport Cerberus colours or look ridiculous.  
> Solution: shopping  
> Result: what everybody would buy for Shepard if given free reign.

“Shepard?”

“Yes, Zaeed?”

“Why are you wearing this ridiculous,” the mercenary hesitated for a moment, “getup?”

“It's called a dress, Zaeed,” she replied. “And believe it or not, it is the only thing in my closet that doesn't fly Cerberus colours or makes me look like the last Hinterwäldler.”

“You look mighty fine in that armour of yours,” he suggested.

“I can't spend all day in armour,” Shepard said. “Do you have any idea how hot it gets in there?”

In response, Zaeed pointed his bare upper arm at her. “Do you have any other questions?”

Shepard thought for a moment. “Where did you get that ink and how much would it cost me to get a full body suit like Jack has and will people really not notice I'm about naked if I do?”

“A place on Omega but I can't recommend it because it got levelled in the war between Blue Suns and the vorcha. Your Illusive Man wouldn't notice if you syphoned the amount from his funds and though it works for Jack, if only so long, I don't think you could pull that off.” Zaeed took a deep breath. “I do think the crew would appreciate mightily, though.”

Shepard let out a frustrated snort. “Not what I am going for.”

“Then maybe you should go shopping, Shepard,” Zaeed said. “Spend some of that money on something else than fish and weapons.”

“That's actually a great idea.” She grinned. “Thank you, Zaeed.”

“As long as you don't drag me along,” he cautioned, seeing the glint in her eye.

“Why not?” Shepard crossed her arms. “You know as much about fashion as I do. And you can see me from outside.”

“So can everybody else on board this goddamned ship, Shepard.” Zaeed mirrored her movement.

“Right again.” Her grin broadened. “Zaeed, you have the best ideas.”

He watched her leave, somewhat worried about the ideas she might have gotten. But at least she was not dragging him out for a shopping spree so what could go wrong? The resulting list was surprisingly long. Zaeed decided to prepare for the worst case scenario.

 

 _From: Commander Shepard_  
To: All Crew  
Subject: Shopping

 _I need something to wear that's not flying Cerberus colours._  
Be ready to show your purchase next time I make my rounds.  
Measurements attached.  
Use the attached fund for payment.

_Cmrd. Shepard_

 

This might, in hindsight, with a lot of consideration, resemble something akin to a mistake. Shepard looked down at her exposed calves. The khaki colour did nothing to compliment her natural complexion. And then there was the hat. At least it was hard and provided questionable protection.

“I don't see the problem, Commander,” Joker suppressed a laugh. “You look very adventurous in it. Add a shotgun and it will be perfect.”

“The Commander does rarely use a shotgun, Joker,” EDI informed him. “In those cases she is also wearing armour and does not need a casual outfit.”

“Thanks EDI,” Shepard sighed. “Why did you chose this?” It was a simple grey jumpsuit with weird black markings. Unlike the khakis it was custom tailored and had sleeves and trouser legs that actually reached the end of her limbs.

“This jumpsuit is fully interfaced with the Normandy,” EDI explained. “If you activate your omni-tool, a tutorial will be available on all it's functions. I will also be here to help and answer any questions you may have.”

The first one that came to Shepard's mind was: What the fucking fuck? She didn't ask it out loud though. The tutorial had over 200 pages. “Right,” she said instead. “And how do I keep from accidentally activating FTL drives or raising air humidity to 100 percent?”

That had been the wrong approach. After fifteen minutes of explanation, Shepard decided that she would need too much time to figure out the whole interfacing. Unfortunately, the electronics in the jumpsuit were also waterproof. Otherwise a short trip into the fish tank might have turned it into an actually wearable thing.

“Ah, finally.” Mordin threw a white something at her. “Have been waiting for you to arrive. Everything prepared. Collectors should worry.”

“That's a lab coat, Mordin,” Shepard said after unfolding the item. “How am I supposed to go anywhere in that?”

“Oh. My misunderstanding,” he replied. “Assumed you were here to help. Cell cultures ready for harvest and extraction through centrifuge.” He handed her a tray of test tubes. "Lab coat fundamental, all instruments in various pockets. Go ahead. Will be here if you need me.”

Shepard stared at the cell cultures in her hands for a moment. Shaking her head, she took them to the centrifuge, following Mordin's instructions. This was not going as planned at all. Where had she gone wrong?

“Excellent. Now wait for result. Should be available in twenty minutes.” Mordin turned to her. “Want to talk about something else?”

“No, no it's fine.” Shepard peeled out of the lab coat again. “I'll let you work. Can't risk accidentally ruining something.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “I'll be here when you need me.”

When the door had closed behind her, Shepard leant against the bulkhead. After a few minutes, she pushed herself off again, slowly walking past the Communications Room towards the armoury. Just to come out again a few minutes later wearing a surprised expression and clothes that actually fitted.

She'd never find out how Jacob managed to get a picture of her hamster in a space suit printed on the Tee or if N7 hoodies were actually a thing. But they fitted well, the jeans was brightly washed out and contrasting nicely with the black hoodie. Her crew might not be a completely lost cause.

An assessment that was decidedly untrue for Garrus. Shepard turned, trying to look over her own shoulder and failing. At least the colour was nice?

“You are wearing too much black and grey,” Garrus said, adjusting the coat. “This blue is beautiful and matches the colour of your eyes.”

Not to mention the colour of his armour. But really when was she ever going to wear a three-piece suit? “My eyes aren’t blue, big guy.”

“Only if you managed to refrain from getting into a brawl for a few days.” There was definitely a smug grin hidden in his tone. He did not stop fiddling with the suit either, probably because that meant he could keep his hands on her with reasons.

“I can't look over my own shoulder any more, Garrus,” Shepard complained.

“Welcome to the turian point of view,” he replied. “You will get used to it. And you do look very appealing in it.”

Shepard suspected that the huge shoulder pads somewhat resembled the turian carapace. Something that would appeal to a turian. She would have to find a way of wearing this thing without actually going into public with it. Suppressing a sigh she turned to Garrus.

“This is very thoughtful of you. I will save it up for a special occasion.”

“Any occasion with you is special.” The flanging effect in his voice turned almost into a purr.

“That's good to know.” She hooked her hands into the rim of his armour. “Do you have a minute?”

“Can it wait for a bit?” His hands wandered around her, adjusting the suit. “I am in the middle of some calibrations.”

Well. Shepard pulled her dress back into place, this had not led to an actually wearable outfit, but she would not call it wasted time nevertheless. That research Garrus was doing really started to pay off. And the rest of the tour would be faster. She turned towards the port observation deck. Instead of Kasumi, she found three women waiting for her, sitting around the table and chatting amicably.

“There she is,” Kasumi greeted her and got up. “We thought this would be more fun as a girl’s night. Painting of toe nails optional.”

“I'm glad about that,” Shepard replied eyeing the three stacks cautiously. One of them included a very big hat box. Another was of a suspiciously bright yellow.

Samara picked up the third stack and gave it to Shepard. The cloth was of a dark burgundy colour, very soft and stretchy despite its thickness.

“Well, you can certainly wear that,” Kasumi commented.

“You can see my navel,” Shepard objected.

“It's a very pretty navel,” Kasumi countered.

“The colour suits you well, Shepard,” Samara chimed in. “Just wait until you are used to it. It will be like a second skin.”

It definitely was that tight. Shepard rolled her shoulder experimentally. The fabric stretched, no question. But she could feel it cling to her everywhere. Well, except down her front where the neckline plunged to below the navel. “My boobs feel about to fall out.”

“They won't,”Samara assured her.

“And even if, hell of a sight, I'm sure,” Jack said.

“Hell of a sight that is not meant for the public,” Shepard said and turned towards the next stack.

“That's mine,” Kasumi called from behind her. “If you couldn't tell because, well, you know.”

Silence fell as Shepard unfolded it. “I'm not gonna wear that. Forget it.”

“Is that,” Jack crept closer, taking a very fluffy yellow sleeve between her fingers, “what I think it is?”

“If you think this is a duckling onesie, then yes,” Shepard sighed, " it is exactly what you think it is.”

“Do I want to know?” Jack went on.

“Probably, but you wont.” Shepard let go of the cloth. “No way in hell, Kasumi. Though, nice try.”

“One day you will have to tell me about this, Shepard,” Samara said. “It looks to be a very intriguing story.”

“Well yes. And no.” Shepard moved to the last stack. It was indeed topped of with a hat, a top hat. She blinked. There was also a cane. “Jack?”

“Look at the rest,” Jack replied. “You're gonna rock that one!”

Unfortunately, Jack was right. The formal dress coat was custom tailored. As was the black suit under it. And She did look a hundred percent fabulous in it. “But when am I ever going to wear that?”

“Every day,” Jack said. “Any day. All the time. You're fucking Commander Shepard, first human Spectre, and Hero of the Citadel. Make a splash.”

“Well, maybe some day.” That was two formal outfits, one of which she could not really wear but had to and one casual outfit. From eight of her crew. If she kept that ratio up, she might end up with a change that was not this ridiculous dress.

Or not. “Are you sure this was made for humans? With eyes?”

“It is the latest fashion straight from the Citadel,” Miranda replied. “Visage is a leading brand in formal business attire.”

That might well be, but the only time Shepard had seen combos like this one had been in historic photos and on corporate parties. She was definitely unhappy with the skirt ending just above her knee. The grey colour was too close to Cerberus, too, especially with the yellow lining and white piping.

“You can easily change the mood of the outfit by using shirts of different colour,” Miranda went on. “The pink one was included, though I don't think it is doing favours to your complexion.”

“You and me both.” That was some safe ground at least. “I'll think about it.”

Meaning she would think about colours that were better for her complexion. That outfit would end up even below Garrus well-meant monster. Maybe she could auction if off for charity one day? Though that probably included her being seen in it before. Life could be so difficult.

Legion did not make it easier, either. “And what is this?”

“It was the best I could find to hide your person, Shepard Commander. It leaves nothing of your person in sight.”

“You realise that that was not really the aim, Legion?” Shepard tried to look out from behind the mesh before her eyes. She felt as if somebody had thrown a big sheet over her, which was mostly what the burka was. A considerate person had thankfully attached the sheet to a sort of hat and the folds were falling beautifully. There was also some same-coloured stitching as far as she could tell.

“I was not aware of that, Shepard Commander.” Legion managed to sound contrite and confused. “Information suggested that the reason for clothing was to hide a person's body. This item of clothing is achieving that goal most efficiently.

“That it is,” she agreed. And compared to some of the other outfits, it was actually something she could go outside in. Incognito even. There were definitely worse things. “Thank you Legion.”

“We will research the reason for clothing more accurately,” Legion said.

“Do that.” Shepard was still shaking her head about that when she arrived at life support. And she left shaking her head as well. Who'd have thought. The outfit was cut like a martial arts suit but made of light silk. The blue pattern on it shifted when she moved, evoking an ocean.

Her next stop was the starboard cargo bay. She opened the door and found Grunt already excited. More than an outfit for his battlemaster should warrant.

“Shepard,” he rumbled. “I have found this. It will keep you strong even without armour.”

She took the proffered jumpsuit automatically. It was black and seemed to consist solely of pockets. “What are those all for?”

“Let me show you.” Grunt started to peel her out of the dress with enthusiasm until it occurred to him that this might be the wrong approach. “Put it on, put it on,” he urged.

Shepard complied and found herself covered in pockets as well as krogan hands.

“This is for rations, wire goes here, these two are for grenades, and there are three more...”

Shepard stood dumbfounded while grunt outfitted each pocket with some vital item to ensure her survival. The jumpsuit was getting heavier by the minute.

“Knuckledusters, easy to get at here and lock picks for actual physical locks. Shepard are you even listening?” Grunt stopped his waterfall of words.

“I have never heard you say so much in one go,” she replied. “I am a little overwhelmed.”

“You are my battlemaster,” Grunt said. “You deserve the best kit even in your casual clothes.”

“I can see that.” She tried to move and found all her limbs heavier than expected. “I guess, I will learn how to walk in this without clattering eventually.”

“He he he.” Grunt gave her a pat on the back, toppling her. How had she ever gotten stuck with a crew like that?

At least Tali had not gotten something that looked heavy. Quite to the contrary. “This is really,” Shepard hesitated, “colourful.”

“I know,” Tali replied. “You see so many sad things, so much grey and destruction. This will cheer you up during your time off.”

Either that or blind her, not to mention everybody around her. The pants fit very loosely, depending solely on an elastic band to keep them up. Shepard could feel the cloth flutter against her legs. A bright print of huge flowers on a light blue background covered it. The shirt was not helping.

“You can tuck up the sleeves with these buttons,” Tali explained, showing the process. “Then they will be out of the way if you want to do something.”

Shepard watched as the sleeves turned into tiny capes for her arms. The shirt was patterned in flowing orange and brown, rows upon rows of wooden pearls ran around the neckline and their pattern was mirrored in the tiny glass pearls covering the straps to hold up the sleeves. "AHt kind of flowers are those supposed to be," she said pretty much jsut to say something.

“I don't know, Shepard. I didn't have the time to learn about earth's flora.” Tali finished her work on the sleeves and leant back satisfied. “You look very happy.”

Shepard could only assume the quarian meant her clothes and not her facial expression. That did not feel very happy. Maybe she should. If she had asked engineer Donnelly to help as well, she might just have ended up in a rather short version of a kilt.

Instead of banging her head against the nearest bulkhead in frustration, Shepard buckled up for the last station of her round. At least it would be over soon. A knife whistled past her head when she entered Zaeed's quarter.

“You look like a piece of shit, Shepard,” the mercenary greeted her.

“Don't,” she replied. “Where's your stupid idea for an outfit?”

“Right here.” he opened a box and put three bottles up in a row beside the model of the turian frigate.

“Those are not clothes,” Shepard observed.

“Of course not,” he replied. “I figured that you would need more than one drink after this.” He barked out a laugh. “And after one of those bottles, you won't care what you're wearing anyway. Or even if anything.”

“A drink sounds good,” Shepard agreed. “But only one. I still have work to do.”

“You're the boss.” Zaeed opened a bottle and poured each of them a double. Not that much later, he called Garrus over the intercom. The commander better be intercepted on her way back to her cabin. And probably escorted because she might just get lost in her state.

Shepard didn't care as she swaggered out of Zaeed's quarter, the two remaining bottles in her hands. The mercenary had been quite right. It really didn't matter at all. And that dress was an abomination. The duckling onesie sounded like a spiffing splendid idea right now. It was huge. Maybe she could get Garrus inside with her.

She grinned at the turian expecting her at the elevator. “I have a great idea.”

“You also have definitely had too much drink.” Garrus reached out to steady her. “And a lot clothing to little. What happened, Shepard? You are not wearing anything.”

Shepard took a step backwards and straightened as well as she managed without stumbling. “I am wearing,” she proffered the bottles in her hands, “three bottles of Mount Milgrom.”

“That's only two bottles, Shepard.”

She hiccuped. “Damn straight. But If I have another drink, I'll drop where I stand.”

Since she was about to do that anyway, Garrus stepped in, taking her by one arm and gently dragging her towards the elevator. “Just don't vomit into the fish tank again,” he muttered as the doors closed behind them.


	7. Poker Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can get Zaeed to confess that he always considered Sheaprd beautiful during the party on the Citadel dlc.   
> What if he had always been a fanboy and only agreed to join the crew because he has the biggest fangirl crush on the Commander?

The batarian was more trouble than he was worth. Well, almost. Zaeed Massani, the best mercenary and bounty hunter in the Terminus Systems, and he said so himself, gave his target another good kick. “Nobody said you could talk, jackass.”

Whoever was approaching that gave the little fucker hope. Well. Zaeed tried to take a deep breath without being obvious about it. There was somebody he expected, somebody who might inspire that kind of hope. Somebody who got even him to take a suicide contract without batting much of an eye.

“You Zaeed Massani?”

He turned around, keeping an eye on the batarian as well as he could. He'd know that voice anywhere. And damn, the woman was looking every inch as fine as on the vids. Play it cool, Massani.

“Yeah, that's me.” Oh just great. “And you must be Commander Shepard. I hear we have a galaxy to save.”

Much better. Now if she would just, nope, sorry no, not going there, but did she fill out that jumpsuit like nobody's business. And she leant back and fucking hell if she didn't cross her arms before her.

“My contacts told me we're picking up one man. Not two.” Her eyes glanced at the batarian momentarily.

But that moment of relief gave Zaeed enough time to come up with some answer that did not include stupid stuttering. And if he looked at the beauty of an M-15 Vindicator strapped to her back, he might get out of this conversation with bits of his dignity intact. Really, the most notorious mercenary of the Terminus systems and couldn't handle meeting Commander Shepard?

But damn, she was fine. Her whole body language was saying she'd take no shit from no nobody. It also said, he better get his answer out soon before she lost patience. “Batarian delinquent. Pissed of somebody rich enough to hire me to go after him.” Yes, good. Point out your professional reputation. “And for my 'bring 'em in alive' rates, even.”

The batarian took that as a sign to speak up. Well, not on his watch. Also kicking him in the face gave Zaeed a small outlet for the pent up tension. “I said shut it.” That was for the delinquent as much as his inner voice that was babbling, mostly incoherently, about Shepard closer than arm's length away.

“Tried to lead me on a chase all over the Systems. He should have known better. These people always run to Omega.” Right, now he was babbling. Better shut up. He focussed on the Vindicator again. Damn good weapon. Likely modded, he would have to ask about that. One day. Goddammit.

“I assume you have been briefed?” Shepard seemed unfazed. Good.

“I've done my homework. Cerberus sent me everything I needed to know.” That consisting of the information that Shepard would be leading the mission. And a hugs sum of money, because Zaeed Massani was not doing things for free. Not even for Commander Shepard. Especially not for her. It would be great, if she could stop looking at him for another moment.

Of course she didn't. Instead her eyes narrowed a little. “What is your relationship with Cerberus?”

Oh man, tread carefully, Massani. She was no fan of the organisation, even if she was working with them for now. One wrong word and, well he was already hired. It would not be the end of the world, or their relationship. Still, if that could proceed a little less awkward, it would be mightily appreciated. Goddammit.

“Easy. Cerberus is paying me a lot of money to help you on your mission. That's the long and the short.” A good, decently mercenary reply. All he'd have to do was convince her that the bought loyalty stayed bought and could not be negotiated by a higher bid. But that was for later. If there was a later. The way he kept staring at her lips when she talked, might just get him kicked out before they had even started.

“Not many mercs would take a suicide mission for the pay,” Shepard objected.

She's not on to you, Massani. Just play it cool. Damn, she's impressive. Can't wait to shoot up things with her. Legendary aim. And that looked like an M-5 Phalanx at her side. The woman knew how to pack a punch.

“Most mercs don't get an offer like the one Cerberus sent me.” Don't say it, don't say it, bite your tongue, Massani. But how could one pass up the opportunity to work with Commander Shepard? Deadliest woman in space. Stop that, say something sensible, Massani.

“This mission doesn't sound like good business. But... your Illusive Man can move a lot of credits.” He turned his back to her as he said that. Better not give her any chance to spot the lie. Credits? Credits were good. But Commander Shepard – that was another league entirely. His league, if he managed to keep up. He hid another deep breath before facing her again.

“Good to have you, Zaeed. We have a lot to do.”

Goddammit. If somebody had told him he would actually get to hear Command fucking Shepard call him by hist first name, well. And shaking her hand. That was good. Keep calm, Massani, don't crush that hand, do let go, yes good.

“That's what they tell me.” Oh fucking fuck. That was smooth. He needed to cover that one up. He turned to the batarian, gesturing him to get up with his gun. “I assume the Illusive Man told you about our arrangement?”

Better get that over with right from the start. Vido had no idea what he was in for. And he would show up, Zaeed Massani at the side of Commander Shepard. If that didn't break the old fucker, their guns certainly would.

“No. I guess he decided to leave that information out of the dossier.” Shepard did not sound angry. A little frustrated maybe, possibly the Illusive Man wasn't as forthcoming with information than she would like. Well, maybe he could do something about that. Where she didn't see, of course.

“Good thing I asked then. Picked up a mission a little while back, just before I signed on with Cerberus.” Well, he did not have to say that he had heard rumours of Cerberus picking the best of many specialisations for a huge secret mission and had actually expected the call. And thus waited because killing Vido was good, killing him in company of Shepard would be exceptional.

“Thought you might be interested.” Spinning her a sob story might backfire, but if he didn't overdo. And goddammit, Shepard like to fight for a good cause. There was that fire in her eyes when she did or talked about it. There were way not enough interviews with her around.

“You hears the name Vido Santiago? He's the head of the Blue Suns. Runs the whole organisation.” And shouldn't but soon enough he wouldn't. And he could always claim he had told her by dropping that name. The way she shook her head was – distracting. Get your act together, Massani.

“Seems he recently captured an Eldfell-Ahsland refinery on Zorya and is using their workers for slave labour. The company wants it dealt with.” That should do it. And if she didn't wonder how a company could afford his rates. Well, the slave bit should keep her distracted from that.

What are you even doing, Massani? This is Commander Shepard. Indeed, and a damn fine woman on top of an exception soldier. And if he wanted to get her on board of his mission, he had to do it now, before his higher brain-functions dissolved completely.

“I'll make sure we get that done.”

“Good.” Goddammit. That accent was killing him. “Get it out of the way so we can concentrate on being big goddamned heroes.”

he would have liked to savour the positive reaction of her, but the batarian had to make a run for it just then. Zaeed was very tempted to shoot him dead for ruining his moment. But alive rates were alive rates. Not to mention Shepard was watching and she was a paragon for a reason. He shot the delinquent in the leg with a sigh and his eyes on Shepard.

“I better turn this thing in before it begins to stink.” He strode past her with more determination than he felt. It was difficult not to look at her for her reaction. But what else could he have done? Calm down, Massani. She didn't say a word so all should be okay.

“I'll be locked and loaded next time you're ready to get some killing done.” Oh great. That was real smooth talking here. With some luck, she would not take that for innuendo. Was it innuendo? He really needed to stop thinking like that. Not that a woman like Shepard didn't warrant some wishful thinking. He was way out of the line again.

Good thing he was already having his back to her and was likely too far away for the sudden and ferocious blush to show. Goddamned physiology giving you away. But he had some time to come down again. And a few cold showers. And get his arse onto the Normandy. Who'd have thought. Him working with Commander Shepard herself.

He'd have to fond some way to keep himself in check. And he'd better be fast. Because he had offered to go right on the next mission. Blowing up things with Commander Shepard. That would be spectacular. All he had to do was keep himself from embarrassing himself completely.


	8. Whisky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> perfect drabble

"You know that it is not a permanent solution?" Zaeed looked at his commander. Downing a few shots of Whisky with Shepard was fine and fun, but lately he got the impression she tried to drown herself. Maybe he shouldn't have rejoined the Normandy but the idea that she was facing those – things alone. He shook the thought away.

"But nothing is, is it?" Shepard reached out tracing the scar around his eye. "Nothings is ever really solved, nothing ever stays fixed." She took her glass and held it up for a moment before emptying it. "Temporary is just fine."


	9. Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> perfect drabble  
> prompt from the MEff fb group and also posten into that collection

It was hard getting used to it. When Cerberus had rebuilt her, what problem would hair have been? They had done fine with things like, oh, lungs, her brain, fingernails. Shepard ran a hand over the stubble. Almost an inch.

"Suits you," Zaeed said. "What would you long hair for anyway? Do you want to be called Goldilocks or what?" He snorted as he leant back against the bulkhead. "Reminds me of a job once, actually…"

Shepard bounced her heel off the crate she had declared her personal chair. The way he said it, maybe short hair wasn't all bad.


End file.
